


The Land of Rape and Honey

by sisterofdionysis



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Prostitution, General Horribleness, Loss of Virginity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Slave auction, Slavery, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisterofdionysis/pseuds/sisterofdionysis
Summary: The wasteland can be a cruel place, especially for those too weak to defend themselves.A scared girl kidnapped by slavers, is bought by Moriarty and forced to work as a prostitute. This doesn't sit well with Gob. But 15 years of conditioned subservience, and a lifetime of cowardice are difficult things to break. How much of her subjugation must he witness before escape becomes a possibility?





	The Land of Rape and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> My beta reader hasn't had a chance to look this over yet, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. Also, this story will be getting waaaay darker than my other fic. However, I'm not going to post a warning each time something bad happens.

Everything is black. She feels around for the bars of her cage. Nothing. Her hands are unbound. She lifts her fingers to her neck to feel the coller. It isn’t there. She tries to stand, but falls. Her legs are wobbly from disuse. She's been housed inside the small metal prison for too long. It's only when she falls that she notices the lack of concrete. The cold, hard floor has been replaced with something soft and grainy. She curls her toes and hands into the foreign substance. Is this what sand feels like? She's never felt sand before. It feels good.

Slowly, a little brightness creeps in. It's enough that she can see in front of her. But oddly, when she turns her head left and right, there is only darkness. So she looks ahead. Things are out of focus and a bit hazy. But she can just barely make out something that resembles water. It's then that she realizes just how thirsty she is. Since she can't walk, she crawls forward. It should cost a great deal of effort, but is somehow easy. It's almost as if the flume is crawling towards her, meeting her halfway. She dunks her head in, drinking as much as she can, before she lifts her head out of the water, coughing and sputtering, but no longer thirsty. 

Squeezing the water out of her long dark hair, the former slave smiles. Her smile isn't forced or empty, but genuine. It's the first genuine smile she can remember having since being taken. She doesn't question how she got here. She's just happy to be free, to be a human being again and no longer a possession. Behind the water are sand dunes that stretch out as far as she can see. 

She tries once again to stand, but only makes it one step before falling down. She doesn't remember her legs being this weak. The thought makes her laugh as she lays down, back against the sand. Maybe she'll just stay here forever. It's a nice enough place. Even with no other people, here she isn't a slave. Here she is free. 

She tries to piece together the names of friends and family she’s left behind, but no names come to mind. Did they even have names? She closes her eyes, trying to remember their faces. Each image twists and distorts until it no longer resembles anything human. Maybe they didn't have faces. 

When she opens her eyes, the water is gone. In its stead stands a massive, horned beast. Its skin is pale and tinged pink, and its curved horns are almost white. It looks more like a demon, born out of fiction, than a real living, breathing entity that walks the Earth. However, she's not scared. She knows she should be. Anyone else would be trying to run. But, she's accepted her fate. This strange new land makes her feel brave and at peace when normally she'd be cowering and panicked. In this new found peace she's come to a conclusion: dying free is preferable to living as a slave. 

The Deathclaw regards her with eyes too intelligent to be a normal wasteland creature. 

She meets its gaze, unafraid. Pale blue eyes stare into glowing red. The monster reaches its clawed hand out and starts to stroke her head. Something about its touch is unsettlingly familiar. It makes her recoil, shattering her peaceful demeanor. 

The Deathclaw smiles and then laughs. It's a horrible sound. It starts to stroke her hair again. She tries to move, but has become frozen in place. 

It's talking now. Its voice is a hideous mixture of a bestial growl and human dialect. She can't understand the words, but thinks somewhere in there she hears her name. It sounds distant.

Milly

She wakes up, a sheen of cold sweat across her body. Her hands touch her neck. She feels the collar, the fleeting feeling of freedom now gone completely. And the thirst has returned. Milly licks her cracked lips, trying to remember the last time she was given water.

Someone has their hand in her cage. He's stroking her hair, almost lovingly. It makes her skin crawl. She shifts her head to see who it is. It's still a little dark, the sun hasn't quite risen yet. Even so, there's just enough light for her to make out the features of the man on the other side of her cage. His long brown hair, shaved on one side, makes him distinguishable from the others. Most of them prefer to keep their hair short. Long hair puts you at a disadvantage in hand to hand combat. 

She also recognizes his crooked smile. So snarky and self assured, she'd recognize that smile anywhere. It's one of her captors- a raider, who's name she doesn't know. 

“You're awake. Good.” He's laying down on his stomach, face pressed against her cage. 

She doesn't respond. Even though she'd like nothing more than to back away, she stays still. The punishment that would ensue isn’t worth the brief satisfaction she would gain from her disobedience. 

“I'm going to miss you, you know.”

A moment passes and she lets his statement sink in. She's unable to ignore it as his words consume her, forcing her to turn her body towards him. Milly wants to ask what he means. Did they find a buyer? Or are they just going to kill her? She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She's far too dehydrated to form a coherent sentence. 

His smile grows wider, seemingly happy to have gotten a reaction from her. 

“No one told you yet?” 

She shakes her head weakly.

“We've found a buyer for you. We'll be leaving in the afternoon.” He withdraws his hand from her cage and sits up on his knees. “I have a going away present for you.” 

Milly eyes him cautiously, but then notices the container of water sitting next to him. It's enough to make her sit up and press her face against the bars. She stretches her arm through her cage, trying to grab the water. But before she can reach it, he catches her wrist, holding it tightly. 

“Not so fast love. You should know the rules by now. You've got to do something for me first.”

She knows exactly where this is going. After all, it's happened many times before. The thought makes her nauseous, makes her want to pull away out of his grasp. However, the thought of water is too appealing to allow her any kind of rebellion. Milly averts her eyes when she hears the familiar sound of pants being unzipped.

“None of that now. Look at me. And smile.”

She raises her head to meet the nameless raider’s gaze. She feels hollow, but forces a smile. 

“That’s better.” He grabs her hand, bringing it up towards his face, and briefly presses it against his cheek. 

It was moments like these Milly hated the most. These sick displays of tenderness felt worse than than the abuse she was forced to endure. All this time spent living like an animal had her latching onto any type of kindness he would throw her way. She was so starved for any type of affection, that she almost craved it. It made her feel confliction and self hatred. None of the other raiders acted this way towards her, preferring violence and fear as a means of control. But this one was more perceptive than the average raider, and he seemed to relish in the discomfort his affections made her feel.

Satisfied with the unease he knew she was feeling, he pulls her hand away and spits directly into her palm, before guiding her towards his already hard cock. 

She wraps her fingers around him, moving up and down, silently praying that it'll be over soon. It's only been a couple seconds, but her hand is already getting tired. Countless days of near starvation have taken their toll. Her pace slows causing the raider to let out a frustrated growl. He puts one hand over hers, guiding her, content to jerk himself off as long as it's with her hand. 

Milly wants desperately to avert her gaze. The sight of his eyes hazy with lust is making her feel sick. 

With one last jerk, he pulls away from her hand and cums… right into the open container of water. 

Her forced smile falters. The horrified expression on her face must have been all too obvious, because he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Well, drink up love. You've earned it.” His manic laughter is harsh and mocking.

He hands her the water. She wants to throw it in his face, but the thirst is overwhelming. Instead she puts it to her lips and takes huge, eager gulps until there's nothing left. The metallic taste of the water combined with the salty taste of semen is heavy on her tongue. It's making her stomach do flips. Milly looks down at the ground, trying to focus on the cold cement floor. Her body wants to reject the tainted water. She hears footsteps echo through the room as the raider walks away. Unable to hold it in anymore, she turns her head to the side and wretches. Some of it gets in her hair, but she's beyond caring. It's mostly bile anyway. Exhausted, she lays her head on the floor and closes her eyes, wondering what new horrors she'll be faced with today. 

\---

“You almost done taking inventory Gobby?” 

It's close to 4 a.m. at Moriarty's. The bar is devoid of any patrons and Gob is getting ready to finish his shift. 

“Almost.”

Nova walks past him and locks the door. Gob looks at her questioningly. They never lock the doors. Even when he's not working, the bar remains open. With three of them working there, there's always someone to tend to the bar. 

She shrugs. “Colin said we can lock up for the night. He said something about traders coming through here, and I guess he wants to meet with them in private.”

Can't be anything good. Gob had been working at the saloon long enough to know what kind of man Moriarty was. He was ruthless, cutthroat, money hungry, prone to violence, and far too full of himself. An all around terrible human being who, in Gob’s eyes, had no redeeming qualities. After all, he did buy a person. 

Gob remembers when he was first brought to Megaton. He was so thankful to be purchased by Moriarty and out of the hands of the slavers. Of course, working for Moriarty turned out to be a new kind of hell. But, he did have to begrudgingly admit to himself that his life of eighteen hour work days and sporadic beatings, was far better than his life with the slavers had been. Once he was done taking inventory, he leaned against the bar, lighting up a cigarette. He knew he should go up to his room. The last thing he wanted was for Moriarty to catch him relaxing, even though his shift was over. But he couldn't help himself. He was too curious to know what kind of shady deal was going to take place. So, he grabs a rag and begins absentmindedly cleaning an already clean glass in an attempt to look busy.

“Do you really think they're just traders?” He asked in a hushed tone. 

Nova looked around, making sure Moriarty was still in his office. “Probably not. But it ain't like it matters. My guess is chem dealers.”

A loud knock at the back door startles both of them. Nova sighs. “Speak of the devil. I'll go let Colin know his guests are here.” 

She turns around to walk to the office. However, before she can take two steps, Moriarty is already opening the door. He walks out of the office, his usual atmosphere of smugness and self worth surrounding him. 

“Good evening Nova,” he says, regarding her with a curt nod. “I'm glad to see you're still awake. I might have a job for you.”

A brief look of annoyance crosses her face, but she quickly steals it into something more neutral. She's tired, but doesn't want to refuse an order. Not that Moriarty has ever acted outright abusive towards her, but seeing the things he's done to Gob makes her want to stay on his good side. 

“Anything for you sugar,” she says with a wink, before taking a seat at the bar. 

Moriarty shifts his attention to Gob. “And why are you still here, zombie? Getting some extra work done? Not being lazy for a change?” 

Gob was behind the bar, looking at the floor and trying as hard as he could to make himself blend in with the wall. “I-I was just leaving, sir.” He stutters and hates himself for it. Why do you have to be such a coward? 

Moriarty's smile goes from smug to something more malicious. It's an expression Gob hasn't seen on him before and it's enough to make his blood run cold. 

“Actually, why don't you stay. Our guests might be thirsty.” Without waiting for a response, Moriarty goes to open the door. Two men walk in.

Gob nearly drops the glass he's cleaning, as panic overwhelms him. He recognizes one of those men. It may have been more than fifteen years since he last saw him, but it's a face he'll never forget. It's the same man that slapped the collar around his neck in the D.C. ruins all those years ago. The same man who sold him to Moriarty, who haggled over the price like he was trying to sell scavenged goods, instead of a living breathing person. That's one of the things that struck Gob the most about the slaver. How can anyone be so cavalier about enslaving someone and then selling them?

A horrifying thought hits him. What if Moriarty is planning on selling him back to the slavers? Why else would they be here? Fuck fuck fuck!

Gob’s whole body is shaking. He hasn't been this scared since that fateful day in the wastes. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. I'm not going back.

Nova notices his change in demeanor and shoots him a questioning look, but he's far too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice. 

Maybe he can make a break for it, jump over the counter and run to the front door. No… now that the door is locked, there's no way he'd be able to make it. Even if it was unlocked, the slavers would be on him like bloatflies on a dead brahmin before he could make it over the counter. 

If a quick escape wasn't an option, then he would have to fight. He puts down his glass and discreetly looks around for a weapon. There's a dull knife sitting at the end of the bar. Being his only option, it’d have to do. He knew he had no chance at winning. He was just one unarmed ghoul going against two heavily armed slavers and Moriarty. And who knows how many slavers might be waiting outside. They'd most likely subdue him. Or if he's lucky, they just might kill him. But, If he could just get one quick stab in before they put the collar around him, then he might have a chance to make it out the door during the ensuing chaos. He attempts to regain his composure, trying hard to steady his frantic breathing and still his shaking. Luckily no one has paid him any attention yet. If they noticed his unusual behavior, then his plan would be over before it begins. That was not an option. The odds were already stacked against him and if this was going to work, then it needed to be timed just right. 

Tall, dark, and terrifying, the slaver glances over at him briefly, before turning his attention back to Moriarty. Gob wonders if the man even remembers him. Probably not. After all, this was a man who captured and sold people for a living. Who knows how many souls he had wracked up over the past fifteen years.

Moriarty is the first to speak. “Welcome back Leroy. It's been a while.”

When all he receives in acknowledgement is a nod, he turns to the slaver’s companion. “Why don't you have a drink while me and your boss discuss business. Or, if you're interested in a different kind of fun, talk to Nova.”

“We'll drink once our work in concluded,” Leroy says, not giving his underling a chance to answer, before turning his attention towards Nova. “She's not bad looking for a dive bar whore. Is she for sale?”

Now it's Nova’s turn to panic. Her whole body tenses and her face pales considerably. He wouldn't… Then again, if there's one thing Colin cares about, it's caps. While she technically wasn't a slave, she knew that if Moriarty wanted to sell her, he could. No one would bother to look for a missing prostitute, or even question the fact that she was missing. Everyone would just assume she ran off. It's a terrifying thought. She holds her breath, waiting for an answer. 

“Just for the night I'm afraid. 120 caps.”

Nova breathed a sigh of relief. Though, she still felt uneasy.

“If you change your mind let us know. I'm sure we can negotiate a fair deal.”

Gob was hanging onto every word of their conversation. A big part of him was relieved Nova wouldn't have to go through the hellish experience of slavery. But a smaller, much more selfish part of him that he hated, wished it could be her instead of him. 

While Moriarty and the slavers were focused on their conversation, Gob had been wiping down the counter, slowly making his way towards the knife. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead and was dripping down onto the bar. But, he didn't care. He was so close. Almost there. 

Finally, after the longest minute of his entire life, he was within arms reach of the knife. He quickly grabbed it, praying that no one would hear the small amount of noise it made when he picked it up, and tucked it into his waistband, pulling his shirt over it to keep it hidden. Once the slaver walked over to him to fasten the collar, he would make his move.

While this small victory should have made him feel somewhat relieved, it only served to make him more anxious. The full weight of the situation was setting in.

He might actually die tonight.

His thoughts drift to his mom back in Underworld. Would she receive word of his death? Probably not. It had been fifteen years since he saw her last. She probably thought he was dead already. The thought of his mom mourning over his death made him want to cry. Why was he so selfish? He had it good in Underworld. There were people there who actually cared about him. Why'd he go and mess everything up by leaving? Gob was so caught up in his musings that he had missed part of the conversation. Fuck. He tries his best to clear his thoughts. If this had even the slightest chance of working, he would have to be more alert.

“-an outrageous amount of caps. How can I even be sure?”

“It's already been confirmed by Dr. Cutter,” Leroy responded calmly.

“I don't know who the fuck that is. Am I just supposed to take your word for it?” Moriarty looked more than a little annoyed. His usual bartering tactics weren't working. 

“I couldn't care less. There's always other buyers,” Leroy responded, not wavering from his calm demeanor.

“All right, all right. There's no need for that,” he conceded. “I don't suppose you care if I have my doctor take a look at her? If everything checks out then there won't be any problems.”

“Fine by me.” 

“Nova, go get Church. Tell him he's needed here and there's caps in it for him if he hurries the fuck up.”

“Sure thing Colin,” she said before heading out the door. 

Her? By now, Gob had figured out that maybe he wasn't the one who was going to be sold today. And what's all this about a doctor? It didn't make sense. And even though he felt relieved, this new outcome had him feeling deeply troubled. He tried not to think about it. For the time being, it seemed like he was safe. 

“Well, while we're waiting, why don't you bring her in so I can get a good look at her?”

Leroy nodded. “Silas, go get Adrian and tell her to bring in the package.” 

Silas did as he was told, walking to the back door, and disappearing outside. He emerged a few seconds later, followed by a woman with tousled blonde hair, dressed in talon merc armor. The lower part of her face was obscured by a bandana, and she wore an eye patch over her left eye. No doubt both articles of cloth were there to cover up some kind of hideous scar or injury obtained during battle. It definitely made her look all the more formidable. In her hand, she was holding a rope and pulling roughly on it.

When he saw what was attached to the other end of the rope, Gob’s heart sank and he felt a sickly feeling growing in his stomach. 

She was wearing the usual slave attire. A dirty, tattered skirt hung loosely around her waist and she was wearing a matching shirt- if you could even call it that. It was really just a piece of cloth tied haphazardly around her chest, leaving her stomach exposed. Her ghostly complexion made it obvious that she had been held in captivity for a long time, and when combined with her long black hair, it gave her an almost otherworldly appearance. With her gaze turned towards the floor, he couldn't really see her eyes, but he noticed the dried tear stains across her cheeks. And she was so skinny. It looked like she could be knocked over by a strong gust of wind. And then there was that heavy collar fastened around her neck. Gob wondered how someone so emaciated was even able to make the trek across the wasteland. She looked so frail. And what was the point of tying her up like that, and having someone pulling on the rope? The collar was enough to deter most slaves from running. She looked too weak to be a flight risk. Must be so she doesn't fall over. 

The sight of her stumbling into the bar, gaze downcast, the pained expression on her face, was too much for Gob to handle. He averted his eyes, feeling a strange mixture of rage and nausea. That bastard is actually buying a person.

He wondered what Sheriff Sims would think about this. Owning a ghoul was one thing. People despised ghouls. But owning another human? Surely he wouldn't allow this to continue. Then again, Gob knew as well as anyone else that Simms was just a figurehead. It was Moriarty who really held all the power in Megaton.

\---

Moriarty approached the girl, eyeing her the same way he would eye a pile of caps. “Does she have a name?”

Leroy shrugged. “Don't know. She hasn't said a word the whole trip, and I didn't bother to ask.” He walked in front of her, placing his hand on her forehead and pushed her head back gently, so he could meet her gaze. “What's your name?”

She didn't answer.

Her silence earned her a kick to the back of her leg from the merc that was holding her bonds. She fell forward with a pained gasp, landing heavily on her knees. The tight grip Adrian kept on the rope was enough that the girl didn't fall on her face. 

“Come on now, there's no need for that,” said Moriarty. Although, he certainly didn't look all that concerned. “What's that old world saying? You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

Leroy shrugged. “You catch more flies with brahmin shit, what's your point?”

Moriarty ignored him, and gently grabbed the girl by the arm, helping her up. “Sorry about that dear. Listen, there's no need to be so scared.” He smiled, although it looked more predatory than friendly. “I'm Colin Moriarty.What might your name be?”

She looked up at him slowly, and must not of noticed his vulturous smile, because she seemed to relax a little. “It… it's Milly.” She spoke quietly, not wishing to bring anymore wrath upon herself with defiant behavior. 

“Well that is a lovely, lovely name.”

“Th-thanks.”

“Listen dear, I don't want you to fret. I promise that here at my saloon, you'll be treated well. We're going to have our doctor look you over to make sure you're okay. And in the meantime, I'm going to have my barkeep-" he gestured towards Gob, “-take you up to your room, so you can get some rest. He might be hard to look at, but don't worry, he's harmless.”

He looked at his bartender expectantly, but Gob seemed frozen in place. I don't want to be a part of this…

Moriarty sighed, turning his attention towards Milly. “Sorry, sometimes these shufflers tend to be kind of slow. I think the ghoulification rots their brains.” He turned back towards Gob. “Oy, zombie! I know you can't possibly be as dumb as you look!”

“S-sorry sir.” He walked out from behind the bar, cautiously approaching the two. “Umm… which room do you want me to bring her to?”

Moriarty rolled his eyes. “You really are dumb, boy. Which room do ya think? The only room that's empty. The one Silver used to sleep in,” he said, before pulling out a knife he had tucked in his waistband. 

Upon seeing the blade, Gob began to inwardly panic, thinking he was about to be punished. Luckily, his panic was short lived as Moriarty used the blade to cut off Milly’s restraints. 

The slave girl rubbed her wrists, which were raw and pink from the rope digging into her skin. “Th-thank you.”

“Not a problem! After all, I want ya to be comfortable here. We'll take that collar off soon enough too, after you see the doctor.”

“Really?” The hopefulness in her voice made Gob’s stomach twist. It hurt to see another person falling for Moriarty's bullshit. After all, Gob had been like her once. And when Colin had bought him from the slavers and removed his collar, Gob had been so thankful, viewing Moriarty as some kind of savior, instead of the man he really was.

“Of course. I can't imagine those things are very comfortable. Now, go upstair and get settled in. I stocked your room with some food and water. I'm sure you didn't get much to eat on the way here.”

Milly took a deep, shuddering breath, a few tears running down her cheeks. “Thank you… thank you so much,” she said, before following Gob up the stairs.

\---

Gob stood in front of the door, trying to open it, before noticing that it was locked from the outside. He hadn't ever really paid much attention to this room, but he could have sworn there was never a lock on the outside. He briefly glanced over at Milly, hoping she wouldn't notice. He didn't want her to panic.

Luckily, she was busy staring at the floor. Like himself, she had probably been conditioned not to look people in the eye. 

After quietly undoing the lock, he opened the door. Having not gotten along with Silver, he had never seen the inside of her room, even though it was right next to his. He looked around. At least it looked comfy, and there was a working clock hanging on the wall. It wasn't quite as big as Nova’s room, but it wasn't small either. Sparsely decorated, It held a queen sized bed stuffed into the corner. On the other side was a small bookcase that held a couple bottles of clean water, and a few other provisions. Next to that was a rusty filing cabinet, presumably there to be used as a dresser.

Gob turned to look at Milly when she made no move to walk inside. “You can go inside you know,” he said gently.

She nodded and took a few steps into her new room, going straight for a bottle of water. It was drained in a matter of seconds. Afterwards, she turned towards Gob, keeping her eyes to floor. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure."

“How long have you worked here?”

Gob sucked in a breath, now faced with a moral dilemma. He wanted to tell her the truth- that he didn't technically work here. He was a slave just like her. But that would lead to questions that he didn't want to answer. He wanted to warn her about Moriarty, that he wasn't the nice person she probably thought he was. He had wished someone had warned him when he first got here. But, he also didn't know if she would believe him. If faced with the choice, most people would believe Moriarty- a perfectly normal looking human, over him- a ghoul. And if word got to Moriarty that Gob was talking badly about him behind his back, well, he didn't even want to think about the punishment that disobedience would entail. So instead, he gave her the most truthful answer he could, without divulging too much information. “About fifteen years now.”

“Oh. Can I ask you another question?” This time she looked up at him.

It was the first time Gob had gotten a good look at her face. Even with her gauntness and pallid skin tone, she really was quite beautiful. Aside from the bits of dirt and grime speckled across her face, she had a clear complexion, devoid of any scars or imperfections. Her high cheekbones reminded him of a pin up model he once saw in a pre war magazine. And though her full pink lips were dry and cracked, it did not detract from their loveliness. Her straight, black hair fell almost to her waist. It was dirty and unwashed, but nonetheless striking. However, her most noticeable feature had to be her eyes. They were big and rounded, with an electric blue color Gob had never seen before. Even with the bags under them, they were still the most stunning eyes he have ever looked into. And they looked kind. As ridiculous of a notion as he thought it was, he could tell she was a good person just from the look in her eyes.

He averted his gaze when he realized he was staring. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?”

“Underworld,” he said, glancing back towards her. 

Her eyes seemed to light up a little at the mentioning of his hometown, and a faint smile crossed her lips. “Really? You're from Underworld?”

He was surprised that she had ever heard of the all ghoul community. It was a rarity for smoothskins to frequent such a place, so he had to wonder how she even knew about it. “Yeah. Ever been there?”

She shook her head. “No. But I've always wanted to go. I… I have family there.”

Her confession had him extremely curious. What kind of family could she possibly have there? As far as he knew, it was still an all ghoul community. Not that humans were banned. But, what sane person would want to live in a place surrounded by corpses? A worrying thought crossed his mind. What if Underworld had been taken over? Then again, he probably would have heard about that on the radio. He was about to ask her what she meant, but the sound of approaching footsteps silenced any questions he might have had. Gob felt his anxiety start to rise. What was he doing? Moriarty was probably going to be mad that he didn't come back downstairs right away.

He walked towards the door, expecting to see an annoyed Moriarty. But instead, he was greeted by the scowling and familiar face of Doc Church.

The doctor pushed past Gob, giving him a look of disgust. “You're in the way you know.”

“Sorry,” he said weakly, before turning to leave. 

“W-wait!” Milly called out, grabbing the back of his shirt. She sounded panicked.

Gob froze, unsure of what to do or say. Before he could manage a response, Church grabbed Milly’s wrist, jerking her arm away.

“No one else can be in here while I'm examining my patient. You'll have to leave. Though, I'm not sure why anyone would even want to be around you when they don't have to.” His words were laced with contempt. 

Without looking back, Gob left the room. He felt worried, remembering the conversation between Moriarty and Leroy. Why did they even need a doctor to look her over? Other than being malnourished and traumatized, she seemed fine. Maybe it's to check for stds. Even though there were medicines to counteract any sexually transmitted disease, it still happened to people on occasion. 

The thought left him feeling dismal. He wasn't naive. He knew as soon as he saw her why Colin had bought her. But, he didn't want to believe it. So he hoped he was wrong and that Moriarty had simply purchased her to help out in the bar. However, the appearance of Doc Church had extinguished those hopes. There's no way Moriarty would have shelled out caps for a doctor if she was only going to be cleaning and serving drinks.

\---

“Okay, I need you to disrobe,” said Church, as soon as the door was closed.

“I have to take off everything?” Milly questioned, as she nervously looked at the floor. The only other doctor she had seen in the past year had been a nightmare, so this situation was nerve wracking to say the least.

The doctor rolled his eyes. “That's what I said, isn't it? Haven't you ever seen a doctor before?” His impatience was clear in his voice.

“W-well yeah, but…” she trailed off, unsure of what else to say. Anxiously, she began playing with her hair, twirling it in her fingers, careful to not look up from the ground.

Church rubbed the bridge of his nose, both annoyed and painfully aware of how uncomfortable she was. He didn't want to be here. His well kept secret of working for slavers back in the day was long behind him. Unfortunately, Moriarty knew about his sordid past and would occasionally use it to call in favors. It was vexing, but at least there were usually caps involved. And if all it took were a few immoral jobs to keep his secrets hidden, then he would just have to suck it up for now. 

“Listen, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to run a few tests and make sure you're healthy. I know things have probably been rough, but at least they'll start to get better now that you're here, okay?” He spoke patiently, hoping that a kinder attitude would work better than the gruff approach he usually took when dealing with patients.

Milly didn't look up from the ground, but she did nod her head in acknowledgement. 

“Good. Don't worry, I'll make this as quick and painless as possible.” 

She nodded again and began removing her clothes. Once her clothes were in a pile on the floor, he began walking around her, making various notes in his chart. 

“Arms at your side please.”

Milly obeyed, uncovering her breasts and dropping her arms to her side. 

“You have several bruises and a few scrapes, but nothing too serious,” said Church, once he was done looking her over. Although several was an understatement. Bruises in various stages of healing covered her legs, arms, and back. “The one on the back of your left leg seems to be the worst. And it looks fairly new. When did you get it?”

“Today.”

“Right. Take a seat on the bed. I'm going to have to stimpack it. That should get rid of the swelling and any pain you might feel in that area.”

She opted not to speak, sitting on her bed compliantly.

“Here,” he said, handing Milly her skirt. “You can put this over your lap if you want.”

“Thanks,” she replied, happy to have at least a little bit of modesty. 

After he applied the stimpack, Church grabbed her wrist and looked at his watch.

“What are you-"

“Could you please not speak while I'm doing this? I'm going to have to start again now.” This time he didn't bother to hide the agitation in his voice. This was already taking longer than he would have liked.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. 

After a minute passed, he let go of her wrist and jotted down some notes in his chart. “Your pulse is a bit high, but I'm going to chalk that up to your anxiety.” 

Once that test was done, he walked over to his medical bag and grabbed a small comb. “All right, lean forward a bit,” he said, before running the comb through her hair a few times. 

It would have been painless if it wasn't for the comb constantly getting snagged on the knots in her hair. At least it was over quickly. Afterwards, he briefly inspected her scalp before putting the comb in his bag.

“You don't have any lice, but you should wash the grime out of your hair while you're in a place that has access to running water.” He made a few more notes in his chart, before putting on a pair of gloves. 

“Okay, almost done. For the next part I need you to lay back and put your feet on the bed with your knees facing up.”

She winced, but did as she was told. After laying on the bed, she covered her face with her hands. It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. She continued chanting the mantra in her head, willing herself not to cry. She really hated seeing doctors.

The doctor repressed a sigh of annoyance. This would have been so much easier if done at his clinic, where he had an exam room, and stretchers, and he could sit on a chair instead of hurting his knees on the hard floor. But with no alternative, this would have to do. He kneeled down, parting her legs a bit for better access and without any kind of warning, unceremoniously stuck one of his gloved fingers inside her.

Milly dug her nails into her forehead, leaving tiny crescent shaped marks. It hurts! It fucking hurts! She would only allow the luxury of screaming when it was inside her head. Silence was one of the first traits she picked upon her enslavement. It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. 

After a few minutes of prodding around, it was indeed over. Church stood up and made a couple notes in his chart, before removing his gloves and putting them back into his bag. “Right. Everything seems in order. I'll go inform Moriarty. You can get dressed. Oh, and make sure you wash all those scrapes. They're small, but infection is always a risk.”

Milly didn't move or uncover her face until she heard the door close. 

\---

“Do you know what's going on?” Nova whispered, not wanting to alert Moriarty to their conversation.

Gob shifted uncomfortably from his spot behind the bar, unsure of what to say. He didn't think he should be talking about Milly’s business, but Nova would find out eventually. “Moriarty bought another slave… a girl.”

“Goddamn asshole. That's terrible.” Even with her hushed tone, Gob could tell she was angry. “Do you know why?”

“No, but I can guess.”

“Poor girl. That's awful.”

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs put an end to their conversation.

Church walked up to Moriarty. “Everything checks out… Aside from her obvious mental distress,” he said, mumbling the last part. “No serious injury, heart rate is fine, no sign of lice, virginity still intact. Now, can I have my caps so I can go back home and get some rest before the sun comes up?”

“Yeah yeah, you'll get your bloody caps,” Moriarty said, waving his hand dismissively, before walking into his office and coming out with the doctor’s money. “Here. Now off with ya, I still have important business to attend to.”

And with that, Church was gone, but not before scowling at Gob as he passed the bar.

“So, do we have a deal?” Leroy asked. 

“Yeah, I suppose we do. I'll give the caps to your man here, just go and take the collar off her.”

Leroy nodded and turned to walk up the stairs.

“Are you sure you don't want to keep the collar?” Silas asked. “It's only an extra hundred caps.”

Moriarty threw his hands up in mock exasperation.“Christ, as if me spending two thousand caps on one slave wasn't enough. Now you're tryin’ to squeeze another hundred caps outta me! Are you tryin’ to financially rape me, boy? No, I shan't be needing the collar. After all, I've kept that piece of shit zombie working in line for the past fifteen years, and I didn't need a damn collar to do it.”

Silas quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? I was not aware of him being a slave. How'd you manage that without a collar?”

Moriarty lowered his voice to a whisper. “Simple. Fear, the occasional beating, and-this in the most important- hope. That dumbass thinks he's actually going to be able to buy his freedom back one of these days. Fucking rotter doesn't even realize he's paid his debt about a hundred times over by now.” 

Silas chuckled. “That's cold. You sure those same tactics will work on the girl though?”

“Yeah, I'm sure of it. Her kind are always the easiest to manipulate. Besides, even if I wanted her in a collar I wouldn't do it. Don't want the townspeople all up in arms.”

\---

After receiving their caps, Leroy and Adrian walked out of the bar to stay in the common house, while Silas opted to spend the night with Nova, before making the trek home. 

Gob was finally free to lounge in his bed, but the occasional soft whimpers from the room next to his had kept him awake. Which was how he found himself outside of Milly’s door with his hand raised to knock. But, he was having a hard time finding the courage to do so. He wanted to help. He just wasn't sure he would be much use in this situation. After all, there was nothing he could say that would make things any less fucked up. In the end, his empathy won out and he knocked lightly on her door. No response. Maybe she fell asleep... 

Against his better judgement, he pushed the door open a bit. Stepping into the room, he saw Milly sitting on the bed, face buried in her knees and arms wrapped around her legs. She didn't make any move to acknowledge his presence. “Hey… umm… s-sorry to bother you.”

At the sound of his voice, she looked up, wiping her tear stained face off with the back of her hand. Even though she managed to wipe off most of the tears, it was still obvious she had been crying. Her big blue eyes were red and puffy. “Oh, it's you. You're not bothering me.” 

Gob felt awkward, unsure of what to say. He wasn't used to anyone other than Nova being nice to him. It felt strange. “Umm… well, I just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

A faint smile ghosted her lips. “Thanks. That's really nice of you,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. As usual, her voice came out small, just barely above a whisper. 

Luckily, the early morning silence made it easier to hear her. “What's wrong?” 

Seeing the odd look that briefly crossed her face made him instantly regret his question. He couldn't tell what the look was. Perhaps it was confusion at being asked something so idiotic. This was a girl who had been kidnapped, beaten, and sold. Asking her something as seemingly innocuous as ‘what’s wrong,’ would most likely only serve to remind her of her own subjugation. After all, there were so, so many things wrong in this situation. Gob inwardly cursed himself for his stupitidy. Unfortunately, he was never the type who was good with words.

“I… I’m…” Wide eyed, she stared at her now shaking hands. “This can't…” She shook her head, unable to finish her sentence. 

Even though he had no idea what she was going to say, her panicky behavior told him he ought to change the subject. “Is there anything I can get you?” 

She was still staring at her hands, the pained horror clear as day written all over her face. After a couple minutes of silence, Gob turned to walk away, fearing he had done more harm than good. But hearing her soft voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Is.. is there anywhere I could go to clean up? The doctor said I need to wash my cuts or they'll get infected.” 

Gob nodded. “Yeah, there's a bathroom down the hall and to the left. It's right next to Nova’s room.”

“Who's Nova?” She questioned. 

“She's an employee here,” said Gob, not wanting to go into detail, and praying she wouldn't ask what Nova’s job was. Thankfully, she didn't pursue the topic any further. 

“Oh.” She paused, before blurting out, “c-can you walk with me to the bathroom?” Her voice held a pleading edge to it. 

“S-sure,” Gob stuttered. He thought it was an odd request. The saloon wasn't big enough to get lost in. Then again, he knew she was scared, and most likely didn't want to be alone in this new place. Although, why she wanted him around was beyond reason. She obviously wasn't a ghoul hater like most humans were. However, most of the humans that didn't hate ghouls merely tolerated them. But this girl was different. Not only did she tolerate him, but in the few moments he had been in her presence, it seemed like she actually wanted him there. It was definitely strange, and he wasn't sure exactly what he had done to make her trust him.

When they got to the bathroom, he kneeled down and ran the tap, placing his hand under the water to check to the temperature. 

“Usually the water gets cold after a few minutes, but this time of night it should last a little longer. If it gets too cold, let me know and I can heat up a few pots of water for you.”

“Thanks… um… could I maybe borrow something to wear?” She questioned, looking down at her dirty slave clothes. 

“Yeah, of course.” Gob walked to his room, quickly returning with an old white t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They'd no doubt be too big for her, but he supposed it was better than the rags she had on. He also brought her a towel and a bar of soap, leaving the items in a neat pile next to the tub. 

“Thank you. By the way, what's your name?” Her question was hesitant, as if she was worried about saying the wrong thing.

“It's Gob.”

“Gob,” she repeated, committing his name to memory. “I'm Milly.” Shakily, she extended a hand.

At first, he just stared, wondering exactly what she was doing, before a spark of recognition hit him and he took her small hand into his. The feeling of holding her smooth, gentle hand briefly stirred something in him, but he suppressed it quickly, pulling his hand away. Now was not the time or place. As he turned to walk away, he felt her once again pulling on the back of his shirt.

“Can you wait for me? Please?”

The desperation in her voice told him that she was scared of being alone. And even though he was exhausted, he agreed, waiting outside the door. 

Not long after, Milly emerged from her bath, drying her long hair, clad in the clothing that Gob had lent her. They fit loosely and she had to hold her pants by the waistband, lest they fall. She had also rolled up her pant legs to prevent from tripping.

Something about seeing a beautiful woman wearing his clothes was extremely alluring, and he tried his best not to stare. 

The bath had seemed to calm Milly a bit and her gaze no longer held that terrified expression. Though, she still understandably seemed nervous. Of course, Gob knew it wouldn't last and she would go back to being terrified soon enough. The thought made him feel sick. He could only hope Moriarty would wait a couple days before putting her to work. Even though it was just avoiding the inevitable, he wanted to avoid seeing her spirit crushed more than it already had been, for as long as possible. She seemed to be a kind person, completely undeserving of this lifestyle. Then again, it was always bad things that happened to good people.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I felt the ending of this chapter was super rushed. But it was getting waaaay too long so I decided to end it there.


End file.
